Flashing light

A medium sized apartment, systematically decorated in Spanish American decor. On the walls are several portraits of the Christ and the Virgin Mary. Candles of every variety and rosaries in a countless array that subsist in every part of the room, giving the impression an extremely religious person occupies this resident. Above the dated television set is an enormous photograph of the Pope. The two police officers talking with Mrs. Lopez are having difficulty communicating with her because she does

I gulp, taking in my surroundings with disgust. This isn’t just a prison. It’s a lot worse than a prison. “What the hell is this place?” Jensen states out loud the same question I’m repeating in my head. He too is horrified by the strange machines. I shrug, not wanting to say my dreadful guess out loud. “A lab of some type, if I had to guess, and clearly not the friendly kind,” Felix answers, examining one of the bloodier machines. My focus is elsewhere. I pace cautiously over to a long

“Danny!” The young woman jumped, hitting several keys on her keyboard. She looked around her dark room and then to the clock on the computer screen. 7:00 AM. “Crap.” She pushed away from the computer, stumbling around the dark room. Danny hurried into her closet pulling off her pajamas and putting on the first outfit her fingers touched. Mornings like this made her fervently grateful that she put all of her outfits together at the beginning of the week. Danny was a flurry of limbs, pulling on her

jerked through the windshield. Our car crashes the one approaching us from the other lane. I get up and run to Violet. I tell her I’m sorry. I tell her it’ll be alright. Sshe tells me to take good care of Azure. The night is only lit by the flashing emergency lights, which seemed to make Violet’s bloodstains pink and my tears appear white. Her blue eyes fade to gray and her soul leaves her body. It’s all my fault. I wake up. I must’ve fallen

to find Ophelia, was still unable to glean her whereabouts, all he could come up with was a general direction and he wasn't certain even of that. Never before had he been so blind to the future, it was as though someone had turned off the heavenly lights and he was feeling his way through a dark world, lit only by the occasional firefly. Elmer caught a glimpse of the great snake Python, and chose to avoid him if possible, so they changed direction and moved a little southward as they traveled. They

taste of morning breath filled his mouth and that morning residue on his teeth made his lips sticky. His eyes burned. He was awake, but his eyes weren't cooperating as much as he would have wanted. The curtains hid much of the sun and small streaks of light came in. The little glimmers highlighted the contour of the wrinkles on Castiel's pants. Wrinkled, aged, and stained this was certainly not his best look. His hair was unruly and curls licked the back of his

“Good! It looks like your persistence is about to take a most fortunate turn,” he explains with excitement, “All we need now, is someone for the tests, someone with nothing to lose.” Los Angeles, California On a typical bus stop, on a typical city street, there is a not so typical man.This man, somewhere in his mid-thirties possible could be younger, but time has not been good to him. He lies asleep on a typical bus stop bench; wearing a ripped overcoat and a pair of badly torn pants. His hair uncombed

and enforce them. We Ganashes have tried, nobody follows the rules, no matter how reinforced they are.” Willow sighed, “Well, your world is a lot different from ours for one. We don’t have dragons or Mountain Lyres or Bolesgire.” He smiled again, flashing his teeth, “Which is what makes this world so cool.” “Yeah,” she

“Are you both ready?” The duel administrator asks first Alisha, then me. “I'm fine here,” she answers, her brown hair shining red in the sunlight, as she places both hands on her hips. She raises a questioning towards me as I continue to stretch. “And what about you, Mr.Clark?” The referee asks when I don't immediately answer. “Yeah, I'm gonna need a minute here,” I reply as I start stretching out my legs. What could I say? If I did stretch I'd be ungodly sore tomorrow. “Prepare all you want;

Between the Mirrors and other poems by Garth Kellett Acknowlegements I owe a great deal to many people, for their kindness and wisdom and putting me right. But to some I owe even more. Chief amongst these is my wife, Judy ; my daughter and her husband, Rachel and Jonathan. I will also mention Jan and Ian Bramley, David Ison and two college friends, Barry and Spike. All of these deserve more thanks than I am able to conceive. Between